


Swan Spell

by philtresque



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Love, Happy Ending, Kidnapped Prince Trope, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, True Love's Kiss, fairytale AU, swan lake AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philtresque/pseuds/philtresque
Summary: Jack only has one problem on his mind when he attends the ball: his mother is expecting him to be paired off by the end of the night. However, a mysterious figure changes his fate, giving the prince a new perspective on the earth around him.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, a couple of things to start with:
> 
> First, while there is an undefined number of definite chapters, I’m anticipating at least six chapters for this story. I have an outline written already, but things may change and the pacing may demand more chapters, so I just left the count undefined.
> 
> Second, while this fic is inspired by the Swan Lake story, it lacks the level of tragedy that’s in the ballet, lol. It also doesn’t completely follow the original plot exactly, but I’ve enjoyed the story I’ve come up with!
> 
> Thirdly, this fic has ZERO accuracies regarding royalty and nobility, lmao. It’s a general fantasy fic and I’m here not following ANY rules!!!
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy the story I’ve got in store!

* * *

Silver beams wove through the early morning mist. Moonlight died as the night gave way to the day, and the forest was dying too, the once lush landscape stripped bare of its resources. A man stood under the sky with an expression hidden by a wooden mask. His hand brushed over the dry, peeled bark of a tree stump, fingers counting the few rings ingrained in the wood in a slow, pensive motion. He brought his attention once more to the barren landscape ahead of him: grass trampled by the traffic of man, and the shine of the waning moon casting an ethereal glow over the scene.

 _It makes this place look haunted,_ the man thought grimly. _Like a graveyard_.

All around him were trees in the same condition: far too young for harvesting and yet hacked down into pieces before their time. Stumps dotted the area like a symptom of disease (which, the man noted, was not too far from the truth), and even though he saw where the untouched forest began again, he could not ignore how the trees shivered at the wood’s edge.

With a rage rekindled, the man continued on his path, soon disappearing into the foliage of the still-standing wood. From then on, early morning passed into late morning, and then to midday, and by the evening, the kingdom was in the throes of celebration.

* * *

Cobblestone streets echoed with joyous music and the laughter of revelers. It swam through the air with an enticing rhythm, and the fortunate guests of King John were bewitched by its melody; they whirled across the castle floor with regal grace and poise. The ballroom was alive, shifting and breathing with the pulse of music. The dancers, reflected against smooth cream tiles, shimmered under an opulent chandelier that hung high under a hand-painted ceiling. The celestial suns and clouds depicted above casted down their images too, and it was all too easy for the partygoers to immerse themselves in a golden fantasy, walking amongst the stars in a warm, hazy daydream.

Among the crowd was King John, a man whose features were weathered by war and strife, and yet he smiled, laughed with his peers, because there was warmth within him even if he seemed to be without. He casually took in the party as a duke beside him told a charming tale—one that he heard many times before and would not suffer from his lack of attention. Beyond his company was the ballroom in full swing, but there were also nobles in groups who stood away from the center spotlight. They were content with conversation. All of them, except for one.

The king’s son, Jack, was no child. His soft, youthful features had long since transformed into a carefully sculpted maturity, but despite his age, there Jack was, the current target of his mother’s attention, glancing sideways helplessly at his father as if he were a boy searching for an excuse to leave. King John tilts his head sympathetically, but smiles in amusement. Jack slumps with a tiny sigh. The queen pauses in her speech, not quite catching the subtle communication between father and son, but dissatisfied still.

“ _Jack_.”

The prince meets the queen’s grey eyes with those of bright blue, his brows raised. “Yes?”

“You are not paying attention.”

“No! I am, I am.” He smiles at his mother with as much charm he can muster, hoping that it would be enough to appease her irritation. Instead, she narrows her eyes in lieu of softening her countenance.

“I have been queen for far too long to let pass such feeble lies,” she says as she pinches his cheek. “And I am your mother. Smiling and batting those lashes won’t have me convinced as easily as when you were a boy.” Jack wrinkles his nose in response to the touch, but makes the ultimate decision to bear the onslaught of her chastising affection—better to let the moment pass instead of complaining and instigating any further torment.

Jack was stubborn, but so was his mother, and Jack often thought that it was both a blessing and a curse that he inherited the trait. Where it fueled his courage, he also had an unfortunate inclination to do what he wanted to. His desires did not include acting on cruelty, but when his mother cornered Jack with something he did not wish to speak of, he did his best to avoid it. But his mother was determined, and his father was… entertained, telling by the way he grinned at Jack from across the ballroom. So much for an intervention.

His mother waits for some sort of response from him, be it retaliation or some other form of defense, but before Jack is forced to put together a response, he is saved from doing so. Trumpets sound from the ballroom’s main entrance with a sonorous ring, and the royal herald’s voice carries loud and clear over the din of the ball:

“Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Ana Amari of Aves!”

The crowd quieted minutely at the sound of trumpets, but then further hush at the mention of the name. There is a collective, reverent gasp of awe as Queen Ana descends the staircase into the ballroom. She is opulent, glittering with sapphires as she enters the scene with a gorgeous taffeta silhouette.

“I wondered if she would come,” the queen hums curiously, distracted enough to finally release her son’s cheek. “I wonder what could have caused her to be so late. She is usually quite punctual.”

“I’m sure she has a good reason,” Jack soothes, rubbing his face and hoping to the stars above that there was no red mark. “She has been working hard since her coronation.”

“Nearly to the point of micro-managing.” The queen laughs softly. “But I am glad to see her well. Now, go. Go greet her, and think about what I’ve said. I know that you are eager to see your friend.” She kisses Jack’s cheek sweetly, and Jack squeezes her hand in return before he enters the crowd quickly. Within minutes, Jack finds Ana greeting several nobles. He approaches, and Ana smiles at him brightly.

“Please excuse me,” she tells the nobles, who nod and disperse upon her goodbye. With Ana’s full attention, Jack bows to her at the waist.

“Your Majesty.”

Ana curtsies in return. “Your Highness.”

They meet each other’s eyes and resist bursting into laughter at the formalities.

“I am overjoyed to see you after so long,” Jack tells her with a wide grin. “I was worried that you wouldn’t make it.”

“As was I. I am sorry for my tardiness.”

“As long as you are safe, all is forgiven. But, you _are_ safe, yes?”

“You worry too much,” Ana says, wrapping her hand around Jack’s forearm. “Yes, I am safe. I can assure that no assassins came to undo me in the dead of night.”

“So, what was it then?” Jack offers his arm, Ana takes it, and the two stroll from the ballroom to the open outdoors.

As the two royals pass under the stone archway, the sunny ceiling and golden light fade into silver and navy, colors much more muted but no less majestic. The moon glitters in the fountain’s waters while Jack and Ana converse about lighter things, and then about the things that weighed on their minds.

“...the drought was so severe and lasted so long, we nearly lost everything,” Ana told Jack, sincere. “The people, the animals, the land… Our kingdom was so vulnerable. Without your father’s help, I doubt we would have made it.”

Jack frowns. He remembers Ana’s call for aid during her tumultuous first year of rule. Where his own kingdom prospered, Ana’s kingdom struggled to produce food for its populace. Roving bands of thieves and thugs terrorized the countryside as chaos brewed in the cities, and Ana, who was forced to take up the crown after her mother’s passing, had chosen to forgo her grief in the form of wrangling her new kingdom back into shape. Jack remembers worrying for her and convincing his father to send them aid. He remembers how his father agreed without a second thought, but then ordered the prince to remain home in order to stay safe. Jack remembers going anyway, and he remembers the tongue-lashing he received from both his father and mother when he returned home.

It had been a few years since then, and while there was a visible improvement in Aves, Jack could still see Ana thinking about what could be done next. He wondered if she was always like this, or if perhaps she had only recently learned to push her personal issues aside for the reward of progress. They all did it at some point; it was a side-effect that came of being in their station. To have the power they did and to manage the land they ruled over required some sacrifice… but still, Jack had hoped that once he saw his friend again, she would have had some of her burdens relieved.

“The people are still afraid,” Ana continues. “They believe that the world will shatter around them at any given moment. They want to be prepared, and I understand that, but I cannot allow those actions at the cost of others, which is why I had to stay home for a little while longer.”

Jack shakes his head, disapproving but smiling. “Getting down and dirty with raiders, Amari? Their company is far less pleasurable than mine.” Jack pauses. “But you have knights; why on earth did you think that taking care of this problem yourself was a good idea? Imagine what would have happened if you were injured, or even worse. What would happen to Aves if you were gone?”

Ana meets the prince’s strict expression with an unconvinced gaze. “You are one to talk.”

“I’m serious—”

“I am too, you hypocrite,” she retorts. “You know as well as I do the influence we have with our presence alone. I need the people to understand that I take these offenses seriously. I _want_ to be a leader that my people will trust and rely on.”

Jack nods. “Yes, but—”

“I am an adult who can make her own decisions and keep herself in one piece.” Ana pats Jack’s arm with the air of calming a fussy child. “Unlike others, who like to run in without a plan and need their best friend to drag their ass out of harm’s way.”

Jack grumbles out something short and indecipherable. “That’s only happened twice, and we were children.”

“Thrice,” Ana corrects him. “Thrice as children, and I doubt that you are any more well behaved as an adult, _especially_ while I am away. I’ve heard about your run-in with the Thieves Guild—”

“That was warranted. Someone had to act fast unless they wanted the thief to get away with the artifacts—”

“And I also heard that you took on the responsibility to hunt a dangerous beast terrorizing one of your villages, _alone_ , despite the fact that you have many knights and hunters at your disposal.”

“I was in the area,” Jack says with a half-shrug. “It would have been irresponsible of me not to at least try to take it down. And I _did_ have knights with me, so really—”

“My point still stands,” Ana says with finality. “And you know, your father caught me just before you did, and he told me to ask you about something.”

“Oh… Did he?” Jack gazes out to the hedges of flowers ahead of them without another word. He has an idea of what his father wants Ana to ask him about—the topic would have come up between them eventually. He knows that there is nothing to fear from Ana, not really, but he still finds himself fiddling with the cuffs of his tunic.

“He told me... that you’ve been busy,” she begins, and Jack notes how gentle her voice has become. He stills his fingers.

_I can’t hide anything from you, can I?_

“I assumed that I would have to pry from you another story that proved both your bravery and your foolishness, but that is not the case, is it?”

Jack begins a reply, but then catches himself. There are other partygoers around them enjoying the night air as they are, and with the music muted from inside, he can catch select words from their conversations. After giving the scene a conspiratorial glance, Jack takes Ana’s hand and pulls her further into the garden with a brisk walk. Ana laughs his name, but he does not respond. He navigates a familiar path, and it is not long after that the two find themselves standing before a small pond. Jack finally slows and lets his hand slip from Ana’s, then steps onto the small bridge that arches over the pond. Ana follows behind him.

“Jack?” Ana’s voice is not any quieter than normal, but it is soft with concern. The prince inhales, exhales, then rests his arms on the bridge’s railing.

“My mother… wants me to get married.”

There is silence, aside from the occasional ripple of the pond and muted music from the ball.

The silence ends when Ana clocks Jack in the shoulder.

“OUCH!”

“You had me thinking that _you_ were the one in danger!” Ana scolds him. “Sneaking around like someone was going to jump out and stab you… God, Jack, what were you thinking?”

“I was _thinking_ that I didn’t want the _more observant_ lords and ladies to overhear us, gossip among their friends, and then crowd me for the rest of the evening!” Jack rubs his shoulder with a frustrated growl. “Anyhow, Mother has been pushing me to get paired off tonight, and I was only just able to escape to greet you.”

“Because she knows that I could help,” Ana says, voice flat and unimpressed.

 _Ah,_ Jack realizes.

“But Jack, why is there a rush? Is it political? Are your parents ill? You do not have to marry to rule.” Jack shakes his head.

“I’m not entirely sure myself. I’ve wondered why, and I can only guess that perhaps Mother is worried for me.”

“Worried? That you won’t marry?” Ana laughs.

“Maybe, but more so that perhaps she just wants to know that I will be okay in the future.” Jack chews his lip, considering a new thought. “That… and she probably wants grandchildren.”

Ana chuckles. “You could adopt while you are single.”

“I know that, but I suppose that she has these expectations of how my life is supposed to be… Regardless of her reasons, she has been cornering me at every social event to discuss the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes.” Jack fiddles with the tassels of his tunic, rolling a string between his fingers. “...She says that I’ll be too old before I know it.” He says it with a deep frown, an expression that most would assume meant that the prince was angry, but Ana would recognize it for what it truly was: embarrassment.

“Anyone would be lucky to marry a prince like yourself.”

Jack grunts, focusing intently on a lily pad below. “I wouldn’t want someone to marry me simply because I am in line for the throne. I want it to be for…”

“Love?”

He feels himself frown a little more, but he’s unsure if it’s because he’s bitter or if it’s because he can feel his cheeks growing warmer.

“...Yeah.” Jack clears his throat, glancing away briefly. “But that’s not quite how it usually works out for royalty.” He turns from the railing to lean against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “If anything, marrying you would be the best option. We’re friends, and I trust you with my life.”

 _Better to spend my life with someone I already know,_ he thinks, because the idea of courting or being courted by someone new was uncomfortable in the least and anxiety-inducing at the most. Besides, weren’t married couples supposed to be best friends anyhow?

Ana raises a brow and rests her chin on her hand. “So, is this a proposal? This is hardly romantic, Jack.” 

The prince scoffs with a smile. “Is whisking you away to a secluded part of the royal garden not good enough for you?”

“No,” Ana replies succinctly. “I require ten carriages of gold and at least twelve white horses for my stable.”

That makes Jack laugh, and he can feel the tension fall from his expression. “Well, if all else fails and you are agreeable, then perhaps I will endeavor to meet your ridiculously high standards,” Jack says. “But that’s an idea... no?”

Ana doesn’t reply immediately, and Jack can feel the jitters returning. Ana turns to look at him after a quiet moment, her expression softens, she cups his cheek with a careful tenderness. “Oh Jack, you hopeless romantic,” she sighs. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” Jack doesn’t say anything; he nods into her hand and folds his palm over her own. The two rest their joined hands on the railing and stand quietly, listening to the crickets chirp.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever marry for love,” Ana admits after a moment. “And to say that our union would not be beneficial would be untrue…” Jack watches the cogs turn in Ana’s head as she sorts out the thought.

“I just thought that if I couldn’t avoid it any longer, if I _had_ to marry…” The words feel superfluous yet wanting, and a part of Jack is convinced that he most definitely insulted his best friend. Ana hushes him before he can babble an apology.

“If this is something you truly want, then we can talk about it,” Ana concludes, lifting their hands from the railing and guiding him off the bridge. “For now though, let us rejoin the party. There may be someone here that will sweep you off your feet yet.” Jack huffs a bitter laugh at her words, but follows her back to the ballroom without a single protest.

When the archway comes into view, a strange pressure suddenly bears down upon the party. The frogs, crickets, and other buzzing insects abundant in the garden all fall into silence, and at that, several revelers pause and shift uneasily as the atmosphere grows cold. The two royals stop in their tracks. Ana looks to Jack first, then to the revelers, and then she squints up at the bright night sky. Jack looks too. A black figure is growing closer, growing larger—

“Get down!”

As soon as Jack and Ana duck, the dark shape dives into the garden with a horrifying screech. It brings with it a chilling breeze that musses Ana’s dark locks and burns Jack’s skin, and when the unnatural cold dissipates, Jack and Ana look up once more from the ground. The creature flaps its large wings like a bird in the sky, void space in a sea of stars, and then it dips, curls, and twists into the ballroom like living smoke. The torches at the arch flare an unnatural red, and when a shrill scream breaks through the royals’ disbelief, Jack and Ana rush from their place to enter the castle, leaving a plot of frosted-over peonies behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter than the first, but I figured that the content made up for the lack of words XD I fiddled with this chapter much too long, so if there are any issues, I am sorry, lol. I knew that I would be stuck in writer's limbo if I didn't post it now, so thank you for your patience!

Jack’s heart drums in his chest as he races into the ballroom. People from the garden are drawn inward by their curiosity, and as they congregate at the archway, Jack is forced to push through the crowd. He and Ana speak their pardons as they squeeze past, but they do not wane in their effort to make it to the front. When they reach their goal, the bodies around Jack are stiff and still.

The ballroom is hushed. The guests at the front of the crowd are rooted in place, all holding their breath in the dim atmosphere. The lights within the hall, once a warm dandelion yellow, now burn the unnatural shade of red Jack witnessed outside in the garden. Several nobles step aside when they recognize the prince coming forward, but Jack is focused on an imposing figure standing before his father’s throne.

It’s covered in dark robes of fur, leather, and cloth. It’s shape was not that of a beast, but of a man. It spins dramatically to face the crowd, who gasp in fright and awe at the sudden movement. Where the man’s face should be is instead a wooden mask. Under the darkness, Jack can tell that the piece is ornately carved, but he cannot discern the details. The only thing he can see are two circular, glowing eyes, burning with the force of something alive and unwavering like the sun.  
Jack swallows. He’s never fought a magician before.

“...Kiiiiing John.” The creature’s voice growls deep, inhuman and chilling, old and honeyed. It gives its attention back to the king, turning its back on the crowd. “You have been ignoring me.”  
Jack snaps his head toward his father, who is the picture of cold steel. One of his arms is held at an angle in front of his mother, and Jack knows that he’s trying to push her back. But his mother, stubborn and brave, wraps her hand around the king’s arm and stays.

“You have come into my home and have terrified my guests,” the king says with a strict expression. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say?”

“You would not allow me your consideration otherwise,” the magician croons, opening his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “Coming here was my last option... and it will be your last warning.”

The king narrows his eyes. “I do not tolerate threats, _sorcerer_ ,” John hisses, and Jack’s mind reels from the venom that spills from his tongue. He was not a stranger to the king’s displeasure, but he could not compare even the most potent expression of anger he witnessed from his father to the demeanor before him.

“You live in the past,” the king continues. “Our kingdom needs more resources, and the ancient laws serve no one. I am not in the wrong for providing for my people!” Jack looks to Ana, but she shakes her head—whatever was happening, they were both bewildered. Jack turns his brain over; the past week has been full of preparations for the ball. He had not spoken to his father often (and that was the norm, as they were both busy with their own responsibilities), but his father _would_ have let Jack know if he was being harassed by a rogue magician, wouldn’t he? Why hadn’t Jack heard of this before? Of ancient laws and rogue magickers?

“Call back the soldiers that wage war on my forest,” the magician demands, paying no heed to the king’s words. “Curb your dogs and their hounds. Respect the sacred spaces, and give back to your land before you bleed out its last breath!”

John’s mask of refined fury contorts as the magician speaks on: his wrinkles deepen, casting dramatic shadows over his face, his jaw clenches tight, and his eyes glare unblinking ahead. In the crimson light, Jack can understand why people are slowly shuffling backwards as his father’s impatience bleeds through... He was terrifying.

“I have no _choice_ ,” John says, his anger observant, but his tone still controlled. “You speak of things that have no bearing on our time. I have given you my answer.” The armored guards beside John and his throne step forward toward the magician, drawn to the source of the tension and ready to leap upon it at the call of their master. The silver and iron of their metal glint like wolves’ fangs, and when they raise their blades, spectating guests at Jack’s shoulders cringe and draw back, gasp and lean forward. The front line of the crowd is restless with anticipation, but the magician does not react to the circle of predators surrounding him. Instead, his head bows and his arms tense under his draping sleeves as if he were clenching his fists. A heavy miasma seeps from the hem of magician’s robes like a black fog, billowing and sweeping into the crowd. Jack steps backward, but the cloud brushes over his boots and splashes against his leg in a wave. The air is cold, and Jack feels something grow unwarranted in his chest: rage, fear…

Sorrow.

“...I wanted you to understand.” The voice is just loud enough for Jack to hear, and it takes a moment for him to realize who spoke in such a defeated tone.  
“How could you _NOT_. UNDERSTAND?!”

The fires rise with the magician’s cry, the sound layered with a voice much more human than that of a crackling blaze. The crowd cries out in fear.

“You _prideful_ fool!” he accuses with a pointed claw, his hand a blend of beast and man. “I have heard enough of your excuses! You may be content to kill that which gives freely to you and doom your people to generations of suffering, but I am _not_!” The room darkens despite the raging flames and the magician glows with his fury in that deep, bloody shade. King John draws the sword from his hip, and upon the sound of scraping metal, his knights pounce forward toward the beast.

The crowd finally breaks. Guests flee from the fight in droves, screaming in fear, and Jack has to brace himself against the flow of them all in order to avoid being swept away. In the chaos, he spies the knights ahead of him leaping upon the interloper with their blades drawn, but the magician is fighting back. He is summoning shields that whirl like water and glow like molten rock, and the swords that strike it bounce off without making their intended mark. A knight wraps his arms around the magician’s waist, but the man wrestles back. He grabs the knight’s wrists, and then his hands glow red-hot. The knight yells as if he‘s been burned, and the magician pries his arms away from him. The magician knocks his head backward against the knight’s face, twists around to see him, then follows up with an elbow strike to the breastplate. The knight doesn’t stumble—they _fly_ backward as if a large beast sent them off with a great swat. The knight slams against a stone pillar and falls limp, right beside Jack’s feet.

Jack can’t help but lose his focus at the sight. Never had he seen a magician so physically capable before, from his magically-inclined tutors to the court magicians of his kingdom. He distantly wonders if the magician’s strength is powered by his magic. Jack snatches the sword from the fallen knight’s hand and joins the others in their defense.

Without the crowd obscuring his vision, Jack can see his father still standing with sword in hand, but his mother has vanished from his side. The magician remains between him and his father, battling against the guards. Black fog continues to spill down the dark robes onto the floor like heavy clouds, and as Jack wades through it, he feels himself filling with a rage that is not his own. It tastes like metal and smoke on his tongue, and his fingers itch to strike at the magician without thought. Jack grips the hilt of the sword to control the urge.

“Weak!” the magician cries as he blows a knight back with an invisible force. He stalks toward the throne. “You would attack me,—ME?—King John? As you would attack the very land you love?!”  
The king roars and swings his blade at the magician, but the man catches it. His fingers tighten around the blade and they glow red-hot, the effect seeping down his hand into the sword’s metal like an early-morning sunrise. The king struggles to push the blade further in or to yank it from the magician’s hands. His face contorts and Jack knows that his father is trapped. He sprints forward, not moving fast enough.

“Ahh,” Jack hears the magician croon. “But you don’t love the land. Only your people.” The magician pushes the blade back, hot steel flaring against the king’s face. “You cannot have one without the other, Johnathan. Would you die for your pride?”

“For my people, I would give my life,” the king sneers. Jack’s blood runs cold.

“Father!”

The magician looks up. Between the illuminating magic and the blazing torches, Jack can finally discern the magician’s mask: two almond eyes and a heart-shaped face stare down at him from atop the steps. The king attempts to take advantage of the magician’s apparent distraction, reeling back a fist from the sword’s handle and striking. But the magician deflects the blow, and with superhuman strength, he snaps the melted blade in his hand and strikes the king down with an open-handed push. Jack can hear his father choke when he falls onto the floor as the air is taken from his lungs.

“NO!”

He approaches the magician with an overhead strike, but he too is slammed backward onto the tile. He hears his father yell, and then he can’t see the magician, can’t see much of anything, as the room fills with black clouds. A crooked laugh echoes around them.

“Stop hiding!” Jack challenges, scrambling to his feet and readying his sword. He carefully steps forward. Where was his father? He had to get to him.

“You love your people,” the magician taunts, his voice echoing all around them. The prince couldn’t pinpoint his location if he tried.

“You love your son.” The air grows colder and Jack shivers.

“Would you do as I wish… for him?”

Jack’s arms are pinned to his sides without warning. Large talons dig into his flesh and he drops the sword onto the ground. He is pulled upward like a fish caught on a line, and above him two large wings spread and beat once. It clears away the fog, and Jack sees the king, standing now, the knights, and Ana (when had he lost sight of her?) wearing horrified expressions.

“Jack!” Ana calls to him, her eyes darting for some sort of solution, for some way to save him.

“Monster!” the king yells. “Release him! This is a matter between you and I!”

The monster speaks, and Jack can feel the vibrations of the voice through his body:

“Heed my warning and curb your greed, lest you lose what's most precious to you. Should you hunt the beasts or tear apart the earth, his undoing will be by your own hands, and you will never even know of it.”

Then Jack’s entire world turns bright. The room becomes blinding, and Jack shuts his eyes. His stomach drops, and all he knows is darkness.

The torches within the castle flicker back to yellow, soft and wavering, illuminating the empty space where Jack was taken by the beast. The room is silent save for slow footsteps and shifting armor, and with a thud, the king falls to his knees.


End file.
